The deeper we pushed into the swamp, the more the world felt like it was trying to forget us.
By the second night we found a decent piece of higher ground — not much, just a small hammock ringed by water and thick cypress. It would do. We backed the 4Runner in tight and the dad of the new group did a decent job positioning his truck. He was shaping up okay for not being ex-military or a “prepper.” After we got a perimeter set with the trucks and the stand of trees, we could all take a breather tonight, I hoped.
The three strangers — Tom, his daughter Sarah, and the kid they called Mikey — stuck close but not too close. They helped drag fallen branches for a fire line and never argued when we told them where to sleep. Small mercies.
My wife stayed up with me for a bit, chatting, as I started the first watch of the night. The percolator was already working its magic again, the familiar glug-glug cutting through the frog noise and occasional gator splash.
She handed me a cup, steam rising in the moonlight. “You really think we can make something here, Jack?”
I took a slow sip, letting the bitterness ground me. “Not yet, Raych. But we’ve got coffee, a little ham and beans left, and three extra sets of eyes. That’s more than we had two days ago.”
She nodded toward the strangers’ makeshift camp. “They’re scared. Especially the kid. But they’re not stupid.”
“Neither are we,” I said. “We keep one of us awake at all times. No exceptions. The Cough took the world fast. I don’t plan on letting it take what’s left of us the same way. Tom and Sarah seem solid enough — with a bit more trust and a little training they can start standing watch too. I need to know if they can shoot, what kind of firearms they can handle, and how much training I’ll need to do. I’ve got more weapons with me — a couple of shotguns (Remington 870 and Mossberg 590), another AR-15, a couple of Glock 19’s, and a P226. Plenty of ammo for everything. I did a quick inventory last night — I’ve got a couple thousand rounds each of 5.56, 9mm, and .45 ACP, plus plenty of 12 gauge.”
She gave a soft snort. “Explains why you had the go-boxes packed tighter than most people’s bug-out bags.”
“Damn right,” I said, adding a pinch of salt. “Years of watching the news and thinking ‘what if the experts are wrong this time?’ Turns out mild paranoia pays better than blind trust.”
The percolator had gone quiet. I tapped the side of the pot — still warm from last night. Not fancy. No bacon, no slow-browned onions. Just survival cooking. But it was hot and it was real.
“Breakfast,” I called over to the strangers. “Come get some while it’s still decent.”
Mikey was the first to move, eyes lighting up at the smell. Sarah followed, giving me a cautious nod. Tom brought up the rear, still moving like a man who hadn’t slept much.
As they ate, Raych leaned forward slightly, her voice calm but direct. “So… what happened? Before you found us.”
Tom swallowed a bite and stared into his cup for a moment. “My wife… she got sick first. Started coughing real bad. Then she… changed. Sarah’s husband tried to help her. Same thing happened to him. Fast. Real fast.”
Sarah’s jaw tightened. “I had to barricade myself in the bedroom with Mikey. Dad came barreling up in his truck, got us out through the window. We didn’t… we didn’t have to do it ourselves.”
Raych nodded slowly, her expression softening just a fraction. “I’m sorry. That’s a hard thing to carry.”
Tom gave a weary shrug. “We just ran. Been driving since the power went out. Saw your tracks and figured… worth the risk.”
I leaned against the 4Runner, watching the tree line while they talked. The Cough had taken the world fast. Power was gone. Rules were gone. Hell, my iPhone didn’t have any signal, that felt weird. But we were still here — making coffee, sharing beans, and teaching strangers how to stay alive.
It wasn’t much.
But it was a start.
And if the Walkers came again today…
Well.
We’d deal with them and go back to the beans.
Bougie Apocalypse
A daily pulp-style serial about heirloom beans, carbon steel skull-crackers, and refusing to let the apocalypse turn us into savages.
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